Voldemort's Problem
by Draco Potter-Malfoy69
Summary: Oneshot. Harry's game of Quidditch is interrupted when Voldemort pays him a little visit. I can't reveal anymore information. Just read the fic. Oh, and review!


**A/N:Okay, just so you know, I wrote this when I was listening to very weird music...And I want to let you know that if you feel offended by this piece of litterature, then I sincerely apoligise. Enjoy, peoples. **

**Voldemort's Problem**

Just as Harry Potter was about to wrap his hand around the Golden Snitch that would gain him 150 points to win the game against Hufflepuff, a petrified, and obviously female scream met his ears and broke his rapt concentration. Annoyed, he stopped his broom in mid-flight—so did the other Quidditch players—and took a glance at the crowd.

All the students and teachers present were staring captivated, in horror, at the field below.

Something, a lone individual maybe, was stomping across the pitch in a seemingly bad mood wearing sweeping black robes and a matching black hood. The person, or thing, was supposedly short and skinny, but there could have been anything underneath those robes. The Gryffindor mentally shuddered at the possibilities.

Harry didn't know why the crowd was terrified of the thing, but as he caught a glimpse of said thing's face, he found out.

"It" was Lord Voldemort.

The Dark Lord seemed…unhappy (or was that frustration?) at the moment, and one could only guess why. Harry watched in fascination as the half-dead creature signaled for the dark-haired 6th year to come closer with impatient waves of his right hand, and long, pale, spidery fingers. His dark-red eyes were narrowed, and he looked positively pissed-off.

The people in the stands didn't move, or utter any sound. This would be a battle for their Savior, and only him.

The Gryffindor pointed his broom downwards, because it seemed the only possible thing to do in such a drastic situation.

Dumbledore was not present because a very unfortunate accident involving a banana peel in the middle of a hallway had incarcerated him in the Hospital Wing, in a deep coma. His old and fragile body could simply not stand to slip and fall down a so many stairs and then expect to be able to walk, or even move, afterwards. Harry wasn't protected.

This was going to be the big Show-Down. Harry had flashes of Texan people in cowboy outfits, ready to point their guns at each other in a deserted, dusty street, the blood-red sun just setting in the horizon. He could almost see those big balls of fluff rolling in front of them, the wind and those weird whistle-things making the only sound. He wasn't uneducated in the world of television and imagination. Smiling to himself at the funny image, he floated downwards until he was ten feet away from Voldemort's fuming form.

"What do _you_ want? Can't you think of a better plan to kill me than _this_!" He shook his head in mock disappointment and continued.

"Like, everybody in the crowd has a wand, and you expect me to just _die_, like that?"-he snapped his fingers- Harry was feeling particularly smug, and was pleased to see the other man's eyes widen in shock. He, of all people, was being spoken to like smelly road kill. People_ groveled_ at his feet! **Groveled**! They didn't mock or insult him, at least not to his face. This seemed to sadden the Evil Guy, and his eyes filled with tears.

* * *

Professor Snape watched from the teachers' seats in the stands with look of disgust on his face. He shook his head in disappointment. _Just like his bloody father…_

* * *

The black-haired boy also noted, with growing satisfaction, that he was making the evil man's face turn purple in unleashed rage. Ah…life was good. 

"Come down here! You come down here this instant, mister!" Voldemort shrieked, in a girly high-pitched voice. He sounded like Mrs. Weasley. This made Harry laugh—uncontrollably. He was sure that if he wasn't straddling his Firebolt at that instant he would've been rolling on the ground and slapping his knee.

If Harry was even a little bit scared before, that terror vanished in an instant. He was temporarily confused, though. Right before his own eyes, the Dark Lord, the Killing Machine, slowly and unmistakably morphed into a cute, little…was that a bunny? Harry cocked his head sideways and stared.

That was too much for Harry, and he simply rolled off his broom, still giggling madly while desperately clutching his stomach, and fell to the ground with a big "oof". His two best friends, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley, stared at him, dumbstruck. They then stared at the now evil (guy?) bunny as if it would spontaneously combust.

The throng of people watchingHarry burst in uproarious laughter, and many catcalls and applauds could be heard over Harry's maniacal laughter.

Finally, Harry had stopped laughing, but was still chuckling quietly to himself, and he walked to where Voldie-the-bunny was currently fuming in his indignant bunny rage. He swore he could see the bunny's lips curve into a nasty sneer.

That was _slightly_ disturbing.

The only things that would suggest thatthe bunnyhad been an evil overlord in a past life were his scarlet eyes, but bunnies often had eyes that color. He could've been mistaken as a common albino farm animal and nobody would've notice that he ruled over a fair amount of disgusting minions and had killed innocent muggles.

When the Boy Who Lived finally approached him, his white fur fluffed up in apprehension, but laid back down when he realized the boy wasn't going to eat him or stomp on him.

"Isn't he just the most adorable little thing?" Harry was cooing to the people in the stands and ex-lord as he nuzzled his face against the soft fur and sighed. The bunny didn't seem to mind that his enemy was fondling him. He was actually enjoying it. It didn't matter that he would've fed himself to the Giant Squid if ever the _thought_ of cuddling with Harry Potter crossed his mind—he liked to be fondled now.

It was as if Voldemort's brain had switched with that of an actual bunny's, and he was slowly but steadily loosing his will to kill and destroy everything that didn't obey his command. He could just picture some cute rabbit plotting to take over the world somewhere in Canada, cackling evilly while chewing on half-eaten carrots and bits of lettuce. He was soon forgetting what he stood for and what he was. In seconds he was a vegetable-brain and just laid in Harry's arms, as normally as a rabbit would. Voldemort was content to just sleep all day long instead of caring about a prophecy that no one cared about…

"I'm going to call him Snuffles," said the grinning sixteen-year-old while petting his new pet behind the ears.

* * *

Somewhere in heaven, Sirius Black huffed resentfully.

* * *

Why exactly did Voldemort turn into a cuddly bunny? 

Professor Snape had had just about enough with the one-sided conversation between Harry and his Lord (but not by choice), so he just did the job himself and turned the guy into a rabbit with his rather long wand. That would teach him. Stupid self-obsessed Salazar descendent.

Who would've guessed that the Wizarding World would regain their stability because of simple Confusing and Transfiguration spells? And who would've guessed that Harry Potter liked the color white so much? It will never be explained. At least, not fully.

* * *

**A/N: Please Review! I want to know if I made a fool of myself...Lol. I guess thatthat's impossible. Hope you enjoyed! I know that that would NEVER EVER happen, so that's why I wrote it.**


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